


Overture

by Baconfat



Series: the only light we see [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Ignis Scientia, F/M, Gen, Ignis is in love with Noct and it's a Problem, Luna lives, M/M, Post-Chapter 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baconfat/pseuds/Baconfat
Summary: Ignis awoke in the dark.





	Overture

**Author's Note:**

> The Oracle, the King of Lucis, and the royal retinue have all survived the Revelation of Leviathan. Barely. 
> 
> Now what?
> 
> [What you can NOT expect from this series: Plot. Action scenes. Any kind of actual ending.
> 
> What you CAN expect from this series: Ignis/Noct, Luna/Noct, friendship, hand-holding, demisexual Noct, banter, conversations about feelings, sporadic updates, maybe some smooching??]

Ignis awoke in the dark. His entire body ached, his eyes most of all, the way he imagined they might if he'd been set aflame and then snuffed out. He wondered if this was how Noct felt after drawing on his full power.

Likely not. Noct was a King of Lucis, born to bear that power, chosen by the will of the Crystal.

Ignis was not. By all rights, he shouldn't be alive, let alone at rest in a large, soft bed. He sat up, slowly and painfully, every muscle and nerve protesting while he fumbled for a light.

"Whoa, easy there, Iggy. Take it easy."

"Gladio." He was safe, then. Or at the very least they were imprisoned together. "Where is Noct?"

A sigh, and the distinct thump of a book being closed. "In the next room, sleeping off the fight with Leviathan. He's fine."

"And the others?"

"Lunafreya's awake and healing. Prompto's sitting with her, probably tryin' to talk her ear off."

Ignis took a breath, let it out. They were safe. "And Ravus?"

He heard Gladio shifting, his chair creaking. The room was utterly, entirely dark, without even a sliver of light under a doorway. Ignis held his hand up in front of his face and saw nothing but faint, fleeting colours that he knew to be imaginary. "Soon as Lunafreya woke up they had some kinda argument and he took off in a huff."

That sounded about right. "And why are we sitting in the dark?"

Silence, sudden and stifling, eventually broken by the sound of Gladio swallowing thickly. "Iggy," he said, terribly gentle. Almost begging.

Ah. 

Ignis found the light, finally, felt his way to the switch. It turned with a satisfying and unmistakeable click. There was, perhaps, a faint difference in the quality of darkness. Enough to suggest that he'd turned it off, rather than on. 

He turned the knob again, and the illusory colours swimming through the black took on a slightly different hue.

This was the price, then. 

When Ignis tried to recall the moment between putting the Ring on and attacking the Chancellor, his mind slid away from the memory. There was only the sharp, shocking pain of the Ring cutting into him. Followed by the fire, blazing the same unearthly blue as the royal magic, and the smell of burning flesh.

The last thing he'd seen as his eyes failed, the flames licking at the edges of his sight before consuming it completely, was Noct, sprawled out and unconscious. But safe, and alive.

Well worth the cost. "I see," Ignis said finally, and let out a laugh. It left a bitter taste on his tongue.

Gladio, apparently, did not see the humour. "What the _hell_ were you thinking, Ignis?"

There were any number of answers to that, all of them more or less true, none of which Gladio would deem satisfactory.

"You could have been _killed_ ," Gladio argued, his voice hitching.

 _Should_ would perhaps be a more accurate word. "And Noct certainly would have been."

Gladio let out a growl. Ignis could imagine him looking away, too angry to argue.

"Take me to him."

Another irritated sigh, and more creaking of the chair as Gladio stood, taking Ignis's arm to help him to his feet. "Fine," he said, guiding Ignis around the bed and presumably towards the door. "But Lunafreya wants to see you first."

—

He heard voices before they opened the door: Prompto's giggling, and a low, musical laugh that must be the Lady Lunafreya's. Ignis was tempted to shrug Gladio off as they went in, but decided the indignity of being led around like an elderly dog was preferable to the risk of tripping and falling at the Oracle's feet.

The laughter broke off. _"Iggy!!"_ Prompto crowed. "You're okay!" Running footsteps, and then Prompto's hands grabbing at his arms, nearly pulling him off balance.

"Careful!" Gladio snarled.

"Huh? Sorry, sorry, are you — _are_ you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ignis said automatically, and _felt_ Gladio glaring at him. "Under the circumstances."

"O-oh," Prompto said, his voice small. Ignis had the sense that he and Gladio were having some silent conversation. He gave Ignis's arms a squeeze, likely meant to be comforting, before letting go. "Oh, man. Sorry."

Ignis resisted the urge to snap at him. "Lady Lunafreya," Ignis addressed her, bowing in what he hoped was her direction. "You wished to see me?"

"Ignis Scientia," she said warmly. "Please, sit." He did, finding a chair by her bedside and taking a seat in spite of Gladio's overly aggressive help. "Noct always spoke very highly of you in his letters."

Ignis had his doubts about that. Knew, at the very least, that referring to Noct's journal entries as letters was being _exceedingly_ generous. "You honour me, Your Highness."

"The honour is mine," she said. "May we speak privately?"

"Huh?" Prompto said. "Oh! Sure! C'mon, big guy, let's go check on Noct. Maybe if we put his hand in a bowl of warm water he'll wake up."

Ignis sighed, listening to the door close. A silence followed, long enough that he was tempted by the impropriety of asking after her health. No doubt she was looking at him, taking his measure. He tried to adjust his spectacles before remembering that they were shattered on the altar. Rather fitting.

"You saved Noctis," she said finally. "As well as myself and my brother. You have my thanks. What you did was... exceptionally brave. I am not surprised the Kings deemed you worthy."

Ignis swallowed, at a loss. She seemed to be waiting for a response, so finally he said, "Thank you, Your Highness." If it was true that the souls of all the past Kings of Lucis resided in the Ring, then perhaps King Regis had pleaded his case. He cleared his throat. "If not for your healing and protection, Noctis might not have survived Leviathan's trial to begin with. For that you have my utmost thanks."

He heard her shifting in the bed, and concluded that they were finished. When she offered no dismissal, he finally asked, "Your injuries are healing?"

"Very well, thank you," she said. "I should be ready to travel as soon as Noctis rejoins us."

"Good," Ignis said, perhaps too quickly. 

"Yes," she agreed. "Secretary Claustra can only keep us hidden for so long."

"Indeed. Do you have a suggestion for our next course?" he asked.

She let out a small, determined sigh, a sudden reminder of how young she was. "For now, I think it best we find some safe place where we can marshal our strength. How many of the royal arms has Noctis recovered?"

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers, grounding himself. Despite the disorienting blackness surrounding him, the maps in his mind were still clear and organized. "There are at least two remaining in Lucis, and several more rumours we've yet to explore. Making our way to Altissia and reaching you was Noctis's first priority."

She took a breath. "I... have long looked forward to seeing him again."

Seeing him again. Ignis swallowed around a sudden catch in his throat. 

"For your part in making that possible, I am eternally grateful."

That seemed as good a dismissal as any. Ignis stood, carefully, before bowing to take his leave.

"May I touch your face?" she asked, as though it were a perfectly reasonable request.

He froze, mid-bow. "I'm sorry?"

A rustling in the bed, again, her voice coming closer. "I do not know if I can heal injuries inflicted by the Ring, but if you'll let me, I'd like to try."

A jagged mix of hope and horror clutched at his chest. It was an effort not to recoil. He felt behind him for the armrests before sinking slowly back down in the chair. Wet his lips, and finally managed, "You're too kind, Your Highness. You must save your strength for your own healing."

"Please," she said, warm but firm. "I owe you a great debt. For now, let me get a measure of your wounds."

Finally he moved to sit forward in his chair, holding himself as still as he could. She murmured a prayer before warning him that she was going to touch his face, and still he flinched away from her fingers. But she settled her hands on his temples, humming an old and achingly familiar tune, and rested her forehead against his, her hair tickling his skin. She smelled of sylleblossoms and the sea.

He thought of Noct, six years old and smiling brilliantly at him, and presently felt warmth in her hands, the sensation of sun on his face.

When finally she pulled away, taking the light with her, he opened his eyes to find himself still in the dark.

Well. It was worth trying. Unwise, perhaps ungrateful and even unsafe, to try and restore what the Kings had taken. 

Some of the pain, at least, had eased.

"It may take some time," she said, and her tone told him he'd done a poor job of schooling his features. "But with patience, and more healing, I believe I can reverse some of the damage."

Some of it. Perhaps she meant the scarring, as opposed to the loss of function. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said, hating the weakness in his voice. He stood, bowed again, and carefully made his way to the door, a few short steps that seemed to take an eternity.

Gladio was waiting for him in the hall. The relief was enough to make Ignis want to lash out, but he bit his tongue and let Gladio take his arm. "What'd she want?"

"To say thank you," Ignis managed. "Take me to Noct."

"Sure thing, Your Bossiness, but he's still out cold."

Gladio led him down the hall to another room. Ignis was aware he should be counting his steps, trying to memorize the layout of the Secretary's estate, the path between his room and Noct's, but his mind refused to cooperate. Instead he shuffled along like an invalid, oppressed by Gladio's resentful silence, by the knowledge of Prompto's pity and the memory of Lunafreya's kindness.

Eventually Gladio sat him in a chair at Noct's bedside. "You need anything?"

He forced it out. "A cane, and sunglasses."

Gladio made a small sound, like he'd been wounded. He shifted, likely crossing his arms, but said nothing.

"Stylish ones," Ignis specified, taking pity on him.

Gladio snorted. "Don't let Prompto pick 'em out, you mean."

"Precisely."

Gladio grunted and left.

Ignis sat, aware that Noct was somewhere in front of him, asleep. He probably looked much as he had the last time Ignis saw him, assuming that the others managed to move him here from the altar without any further catastrophes.

The need to see him, to look at him and know that he was well, was an ache worse than his burns. 

Ignis held himself still and listened for Noct's soft breathing, and knew he would submit himself to the Oracle's healing for as long and as often as she cared to try.


End file.
